


Scenes From Another Penninsula

by TheKnightsWhoSayBook



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/M, Role Swap AU, eugenides is the king of attolia, irene is the thief, turns out the series doesn't work as well if you switch the main characters' personalities!, who could have guessed!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnightsWhoSayBook/pseuds/TheKnightsWhoSayBook
Summary: In another version of the Queen's Thief, Irene is the Thief and Gen is Attolis.
Relationships: Attolia | Irene/Eugenides
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Scenes From Another Penninsula

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written a fanfiction in uh [counts on fingers] a million years! So blame the Queen's Thief discord for bringing my rusty writing skills out.
> 
> This hopefully will not be super detailed. The first chapter covers all of the The Thief that I intend to cover. QoA events to come next. The cell scene is closely based on the actual scene in the book, with whole sentences lifted from it. Sorry Megan.
> 
> I just think Irene should get a hook hand!

Irene’s father didn’t want her to be the Thief. Her cousins resented her for being the Thief. But Irene’s grandfather had trained her, her cousin who was Eddis needed her, and her own burning desire to see her name carved in stelae outside the basilica compelled her.

Irene was the Thief of Eddis, and no one could make it otherwise. Not her cousins who hounded her, not her father who dissuaded her, not the council who voted to have her killed rather than live as a threat to Helen.

Her father left her a heavy pouch of gold coins and Irene left for Sounis. Her plan was to get arrested as a talented thief so the magus would take her with him to wherever Hamiathes’ gift was hidden. It was a foolhardy plan, and she hated foolhardy plans, but it was the only one she could think of to ensure she was in the magus’s party.

Sometimes being a Thief meant taking a leap of faith.

* * *

Eugenides’ father never meant for him to be king. He had an elder brother. But that brother had died falling from a horse, and his father had been poisoned, and he was not going to see Attolia fall into the chaos of civil war.

Eugenides was Attolis, and no one could make it otherwise. Not the barons who plotted against him, not Sounis who threatened war every time he grew bored, not the assassins who were sent against him more than once.

He held onto his throne with a passion that belied how much he wished he could be rid of it. If there was someone to safely abdicate to, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But if he faltered, the throne would be torn between inept barons, or dominated by a vicious one.

Sometimes being king meant not being able to do what you wanted.

* * *

Irene was lying in the pitch darkness of the Attolian cell, the gift hidden and tied in the dirty knot of her braid, her wound too painful to sleep, when the guards returned with the magus. They carried lanterns and she closed her eyes against the glare, assuming they would be gone soon.

Instead, one of them nudged her with her foot. It hurt. She opened her eyes, furious. Standing over her, between the magus and the captain of the guard, was the king of Attolia.

He smiled at her surprise. Standing in the light, surrounded by the dark beyond the reach of the lanterns, he seemed lit by the aura of the guards. His hair was dark and dusted with gold, and his cloak of Attolian blue, falling in folds over his shoulder, was spangled with gold too.

He spoke, his voice pleasant. “The magus of Sounis informs me that you are a thief of unsurpassed skills.” He smiled, and it seemed genuine, and she didn’t know what expression to put on her face in response

“I am,” she said, warrily.

“He suggests, however, that your loyalty to your own country is not strong.”

Irene could have glared at the Magus. So this is what he thought he could do for her—transfer her to the service of the king of Attolia. It’s true that it would save her life, but she would never do it. “I have no particular loyalty to the king of Sounis, Your Majesty.” They would both know that was not a lie, and also not what he was looking for.

“How fortunate for you. I don’t believe he holds you in high regard.” His eyes were laughing.

“No, your Majesty. He probably doesn’t.”

He smiled again, that unguarded, warm expression she didn’t know how to answer. “Then there’s nothing to prevent you from remaining in Attolia to be my thief.”

Irene had had a moment of anticipating this turn in the conversation to have an answer ready. “There is one thing, Your Majesty.”

The king’s eyebrows rose. “What would that be?”

Discretion prevented Irene from saying she thought he was a fiend from the underworld and that mountain lions couldn’t force her to enter his service, so she said with complete conviction, “I have a sweetheart.”

The king’s smile faded in an instant. There was something she couldn’t place in his expression for a moment, almost real grief, before he hid it. “You are promised to someone?”

“I am, Your Majesty,” she said, not breaking eye contact. She was bound to Eddis. She would never betray Helen. She was sure he would know what she meant.

“And you will not break your promise?” She’d thought he would order her killed for refusing, not keep asking.

“I couldn’t, Your Majesty.”

“Surely I am a worthwhile king to serve?”

“You are a worthy king, Your Majesty.” The king smiled again before she finished, more daring than she should have been: “But my love is more kind.”

So much for discretion. His lips parted as his face crashed, his cheeks flushed. No one could accuse the king of Attolia of being kind. He had imprisoned, tortured, and killed—viciously and publically—to keep hold of his throne. They called him ruthless, and it was not praise.

He smiled again, a different smile than before. It wasn’t real. “Take her upstairs and fetch a doctor. We will give her an opportunity to change her mind.” The hem of his cloak swept across the back of Irene’s hand as he turned to leave, and she winced. The velvet was soft, but the embroidery scratched.

* * *

Irene returned to Eddis, presented the gift to her cousin, and rested.

Eugenides returned to his palace, full of people he couldn’t trust, and brooded.

He’d known the Thief of Eddis had been in his palace before, known she’d been everywhere Eddis wished her to go. But he hadn’t realized he’d seen her until the captain of the guard opened the cell door and cast the light of the torch on her face. A beautiful face, with guarded, clever eyes and black hair drawn into a braid. He’d seen her before in the uniform of his palace servants, on errands through the palace—what he’d thought were errands. He had spoken to her at least once, to ask for some object to be brought to him. Had she brought it? He couldn’t remember.

And once, when he slipped from the ballroom for a breath of air, desperate for a moment of freedom from the courtiers who folded in around him and thinking he would be alone in the garden, he had seen her dancing among the orange trees. Dancing to the faint strains of music, her arms outstretched as if surrounded by other dancers, her eyes closed, her footsteps silent.

And he had fallen in love with her there, without her ever noticing him.

For the duration of that moment when the torch illuminated her face, as he’d understood in a heartbeat that the Thief of Eddis was the dancer in the orange grove, he had felt real joy for the first time in ages. Somehow… somehow he’d thought the gods had brought her there, to him.

What a damned fool he was. She was Eddis’s Thief, and the gods cared no more for him than she did.

And she had escaped with the other prisoners. He could not allow that to happen again. No missteps. No one caught a king if he fell.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not edited it was simply posted while screaming


End file.
